New found dreams
by Zozzykins
Summary: OneShot. Jibson. Rated T for serious suggestion, R&R please. "His hands find her hips, his fingertips sliding down and grazing the material of her thighs. This freedom creates trouble for his mind, thinking only of more."


Slowly he rests his head on the arm of the couch. His little spot of heaven where peace finds him. His blonde curls fall victim and pressed flat against the leather. Through ever so parted lips a sigh slips while his eyes lazily close. He lets the distant sounds drift by like a summer's breeze, barely penetrating his muffled sleepy state. Faraway phones ring, it's nearing the end of shift, the activity is ebbing away and only a few souls wander the rooms and corridors. The setting sun is spilling in through windows above like a golden sea. The warmth caressing his cheeks, heat dancing senselessly across his face. It tugs the slightest of smiles from his tension free mouth, warm breaths easing slowly in and out as he drifts dangerously on the edge of sleep.

He has no clue how long he slept. Effortlessly floating through a gorgeous sleep he hasn't felt for many a night. He found peace on his leather sofa, the smooth velvet like material cushioning and the busy bee sounds soothing his whirring mind. With tightly wound mental cogs and disturbing haunting dreams, sleep wasn't so attainable. At peace, maybe but never free enough to enjoy a delicious dream. Tonight it seemed someone had cut his tethering ropes, drifting away up river and no longer tied down to a terrifying reality. He has no clue how long he slept, but he doesn't seem keen to want to work it out. His attention stuck to the new presence.

"Lisbon?" He props himself up carefully, resting on his shirt sleeved elbows. Never taking his eyes away, slight confusion across his face coated with messy bed head curls. A forgiving faced woman lowers herself onto the seat arm by his feet. Padding slowly, soft hands on the leather. One hand leaves the arm, replaced by her knee. The hand reaches up and rests a single finger against moist lips only allowing a hissing shush to escape. The confusion hasn't disappeared. He quickly glances around the room behind him, darkness but a lamp's gleam speckled with dust. His eyes return to his female companion. He's mesmerised, the artificial light gracefully highlighting her strong cheekbones, black slick locks outlined, stray hairs golden. But why?

Why such suggestive advance in the middle of the night. What is special about today or what's changed between us? He wouldn't stop her, he probably should, probably tell her to think, think of her career. But thoughts of his past are nowhere to catch him, nowhere to be seen. Like an orchestrated moment, written with no flaws and no attempts to ruin. Not even a flutter of guilt as he lets his eyes roll across her features. Her arms are either side of his torso now; legs straddled either side of his. Like a feline predator, the glimmer of excitement in her eyes, dreamy but electric.

He opens his mouth to protest, or maybe, question? But her lips are so close to his, he holds back, the hairs on his neck standing tall as his breath sucks back in. Her parted lips brush his, exchanging breaths enjoying each other's warmth with so little contact. Her eyes had slipped closed, noses crashing in slow motion. He observes her relaxed brow and sensually calms eyes with luxuriously long eyelashes before he lets his own eyes droop in the weight of the moment. With shaking breaths he presses his lips lightly against hers, hesitating to wait for approval. Her lips leave his for only a moment and then meet his again begging for more as her hand seeks his cheek. And it's not only her hands that roam with new confidence. His hands find her hips, his fingertips sliding down and grazing the material of her thighs. This freedom creates trouble for his mind, thinking only of more.

A forbidden moan escapes her mouth, the vibrations only spurring the two on as he explores her jaw line and down to the tender skin of her neck. This elicits only more noise, breathy sighs of Jane's name, louder and louder so...

"Jane!" His eyes peel open, the brightness of late morning sun assaulting his eyes. Quickly shutting his eyes Patrick swivels on his axis pulling his legs around in front of him, his hands viciously rubbing his eyes. Brushing off the remnants of last night's dreams. At least, he thinks it was a dream. It felt so real, the warmth of her body on his. He could have sworn minutes ago he felt her lips upon his. Maybe not.

"Do you want to do talk to this woman or should I just bring Rigsby?" He opens his eyes again, prepared for his new sight; a powerful and dominant woman shadowed him, slick glossy hair tucked obsessively behind her ears.

"No, no, no I'm ready. Let's go."

The woman turns to go but stops opening her mouth slightly taking in a pausing breath, the sight of her lips sending confused tingles through him, "Since when do you sleep deeply?" It's returned by a shrug, but he knows the truth,

New found dreams.


End file.
